


On Grounding Properties

by meditationsinemergencies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Cunnilingus, F/M, Kissing, Oral Sex, Rare Pairings, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23050558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationsinemergencies/pseuds/meditationsinemergencies
Summary: Snape grows concerned as he finds himself coming to Trewlaney for not just sex but...comfort.
Relationships: Severus Snape & Sybill Trelawney, Severus Snape/Sybill Trelawney
Comments: 26
Kudos: 64





	On Grounding Properties

**Author's Note:**

> This most rare of rare pairings I've written, but, boy, do I love these two. 
> 
> The song "Glass Boys" by Fucked Up made me think of Severus Snape. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd, so forgive any mistakes I've made. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading.

Severus Snape flung the door shut to his office, and a few seconds later it swung open again accompanied by an annoyed, shrill voice, “How dare you walk away from me, you childish, insolent, stupid man!” 

“Fuck off, Sybill. Alright? I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for you to yell at me like I’m some child.” He stood at his desk, not looking at her, glaring down at the piles of papers that had built up over the weeks. 

“If you don’t want me to yell at you like a child, then you shouldn’t throw scissors at me!” She spat the words at him, “You cannot slither into my bed every night and not expect me to care for you to some degree.”

“Yes, Sybill! I can. My injuries are none of your business. Do you understand that? My future is none of your business. Do you understand that? I come to you for one thing and one thing only. You have no right to do any sort of your bullshit divination magic on or about me. No-fucking-right.” He slammed his fist down on the desk. Anger pulsed through his body: anger and exhaustion and grief. He was tired of watching people suffer; he was tired of partaking in their suffering; he was tired of his body aching and growing far too weary for a man of his young age. He thought of last night’s Death Eater meeting and his stomach curled. He thought of what happened when he returned to Hogwarts and his heart sunk. 

—

Last night, in a moment of weakness, he came to Sybill, as he often did after meetings, but not for sex, not this time, but for comfort. He went to her because he felt sad and because he was tired and because while no part of him would have been able to maintain or get an erection he had just wanted to lie next to someone. He desperately didn’t want to be alone. She knew what was going on in the war as well as his role in it, but she often seemed so blissfully unaware; she had a faith in the world that he did not. Often, after they’d fucked she would rattle-on about all the various outcomes of the war, all the different ways things could change and shift, but, regardless of it all, everything would end in favor of the Light. Never once had she spoke of his fate or anyone else’s specific fates — just the ending of it all. 

He let himself into her quarters around 2am; he knew she would probably be awake. Sybil didn’t sleep much. What she did with all her time, he wasn’t sure and he didn’t particularly care. She was listening to the Wizarding Network in her bathtub, and he could barely see her over all the bubbles in her tub. She sat up when she heard him enter. Her hair was pulled up in a bun atop her head, messy and frizzed, and he noted her gigantic golden hooped earrings and all the various crystals and tokens she wore around her neck. He wanted to ask her why she wore all her jewelry in the bath, but then he wasn’t sure why he even remotely cared what she did and why, and so he stayed silent. 

She vanished the bubbles, drained the tub, and arose from the water, drops of water clinging to her body. One thing Snape did appreciate about Sybil was her immense comfort in her own body. She stood before him naked and completely unphased by it — she wasn’t standing their nude as a means of being sexual, she simply wasn’t wearing clothes. He let his eyes graze over her body briefly, he eyed a dark crystal settled between her breasts. “What’s that one?” he asked without thinking. She picked it up and held it between her fingers gently, “Obsidian.” He raised his eyebrows to indicate he needed more information. “Oh, right. You don’t believe in crystals. Well, it shields against physical and emotional negativity. It helps ground someone — evens them out, so to speak.” He laughed a little at this, as she began to step out of her clawfoot tub. She walked past him. If he had been in the mood for sex, the sight of her walking away from him, the bangles on her arms jingling and hitting the sides of her hips as she walked and the droplets of water resting on the cheeks of her arse, would have done him in, and he would have happily settled between her thick thighs immediately. Snape thought she was quite possibly the most bizarre person he’d ever met, but he was deeply attracted to her; she was wild in bed but also extremely aloof and naive about the world. 

If he were a better man, he would have taken the time to get to know her — he would have asked her questions concerning her youth, about where she learned about crystals and palmistry and tarot reading; he would have asked her what made her quiver, or how she took her tea, or what her day had been like. Sybill threw on a light pink silk slip and sat on her bed, she let her legs fall apart comfortably and casually. She assumed that he was here for what he always came for. 

He stepped over to her bed and sat next to her, he looked down at his hands before quietly saying, “Not tonight.” Interested, she leaned up towards him, “Then why are you here?” He shrugged, “I don’t know. I just needed somewhere to go.” She rested a hand on the back of his neck, he could feel the coolness of her bangles against his skin, “What happ—” He cut her off, “Don’t. Don’t ask me. I cannot tell you.” He glanced at her and she nodded. 

She leaned back against her headboard and grabbed a deck of tarot cards — worn down to the point where it was hard to see the images on them. She shuffled them and did not speak for a while. He just sat there, unsure of what to do, but glad that he wasn’t alone. After a while she spoke, “Why don’t you take off your shoes. Get comfortable. Lie down.” He did so, and he found himself lying closer to her than either of them expected. She was warm against him, and he felt a small sense of comfort from her as he lied in her bed; he breathed in and smelled all the scents he had come to know — the various incense she’d burned and the smell of recently brewed lavender tea

“Do me a favor, Severus.” He opened an eye at her, she was still sitting up, shuffling her cards, she looked like a goddess to him at this moment. There was a glow surrounding her from the light of all the candles, her hair was falling out of its bun, untamed and electric. Her hazel eyes shined with flecks of glittered-gold that he’d never noticed before. “Breath deeply. Focus on filling up your lungs. Focus on emptying them out entirely. Imagine you’re lying in the warm sand. Can you do that? While you’re lying there, the ocean is rolling in slowly and then pulling back out.” He didn’t agree to do this, so she didn’t know if he was or not, but she noted his body relaxing as he drifted into sleep, and after a while, she noted the change in his breath and knew he’d fallen into a much deeper sleep.

Sybil slipped off the obsidian crystal she had hung around her neck. She slipped it into his palm, closing his fingers around it. Anytime he slept in her bed, she did this. When he did finally drift off into sleep, he was a deep sleeper, especially after a night when he’d been with the Dark Lord. Shuffling her tarot cards one last time, she sat cross-legged on the bed and began to lay them out in front of her. She examined them and shifted them, maneuvering the images in certain ways. These cards worked a bit differently than the ones found in Muggle bookshops; these allowed you to manipulate and toy with outcomes. When Sybil did this, she often lost track of time, and before she knew it, it was dawn and she felt Severus stir beside her. She’d forgotten entirely about the crystal in his hand. “Sybil, why the fuck am I holding this crystal?” He seemed wide awake, not even the slightest bit groggy from just having woken up, and he also seemed quite ticked. She shrugged, not looking at him, “I thought it might help.” 

“What in the bloody fuck do you think it’s going to help?” Yes, she thought, he is definitely angry. She was trying to memorize the layout of the cards before she stacked them up and, most importantly, before he saw exactly what it was she was doing. He was no fool; she knew he was well-versed in all areas of magic, and if he caught sight of what she had laid out in front of her, he’d be furious. 

He sat up quickly, still grasping the crystal in his hands, “Wait, what are you doing? Have you been doing this all night?” She glanced at him and nonchalantly replied, “Yes. What’s it matter to you? They’re just cards, remember? Just stupid pieces of paper.” He glared at her, “That’s not the point. The point is. None of this is your business. This isn’t what was supposed to happen between us. We just fuck. We just  _ fuck _ . That’s it! You don’t care about me. You’re not supposed to care enough to slip fucking pieces of rocks in my hands while I sleep. You’re not supposed to matter. You don’t matter. You’re just a release. Can’t you just be a goddamn fucking release for me? Do things have to get more complicated for me? I can’t catch a fucking break!” He was pacing her rooms now. He picked up a pair of scissors off of her desk and launched them towards her; they landed on her cards. Pointing at her, he whispered angrily, “Cut them up, Sybil. Cut up my deck. How dare you make a deck for me? How dare you tempt me with a different fate? Cut them up!” He left her room, slamming the door behind him. With a flick of her wand, she put her scissors back where they belonged. She quickly wrote down the order of the cards, stacked them back up, and slipped them back into the bag on her nightstand, before standing up and following him out of her rooms.

—

Sybil took a deep breath and she walked around his desk and sat in his leather chair where he sat to grade. He looked at her, shocked she was sitting there. He loved how she would do things like this, how she just imposed herself wherever she was as if it didn’t matter. No one sat in his chair but him, and yet, here she was. She laid her palms flat on his desk, "Look," she began, "I'm sorry for creating you a deck of cards, and I'm sorry for fiddling with them without your knowledge. However, I still maintain the belief that you're acting like a child. And, no. I did not cut the cards up, nor will I. Making a deck for someone in particular takes too much magic. I refuse to waste my magic like that."

"You wasted it as is, woman! I cannot be helped. You should not have made those cards. And…" he reached into his pockets and laid her obsidian crystal into her palm, "take this back. It's a rock. It does not heal or protect or calm or whatever load of shit you think they do."

"Did you feel better, aside from your absurd anger? How's your head? What about your left shoulder, the one the Dark Lord broke and refused to heal? Hmmmm. It's better, isn't it? It's been getting better. Stop acting like you haven't noticed. You're a potions masters for fuck's sake! You understand the complexities of magic."

"It's different."

She held up her empty hand, "No. No, it isn't."

There was a heavy silence between them for several minutes. 

“Cut them up.”

  
“No.”

“Dammit, Sybil. I don’t care if  _ you  _ made them; they are about me, and I don’t want them to exist. Do you understand what could happen if they fell into the wrong hands? If the Dark Lord caught wind?”

“And how, exactly, would he do that, Severus?”

“He invades my mind! He sees things. I have to show him things. Sometimes, as I am a man, I slip up, and I show him things I don’t intend to.”

“It won’t matter.”

“Why?”

“He won’t win this. I’m simply trying to find a way where you don’t die in the process, you idiotic, selfish man.” She was standing up now, anger filling her, as it filled him hours before. How could he be so daft, how could he care so little about himself? 

“Me? I’m selfish?” he inquired, his anger now rising again, “I’m willing to die for this fucking cause. Not you. Not you with your tarot cards and your tea leaves and your crystal balls. Not you living in your tower, blissfully teaching, waltzing around as if everything will just work out. I’m selfish?” 

She narrowed her eyes, “It isn’t a sacrifice for you to die, Severus. You don’t care. You don’t care how anyone else feels. How anyone else may be impacted by your death.”

“You weren’t supposed to start caring for me, Sybill. That was part of this.” 

She rounds his desk and stands beside him now, looking up at him with her golden-hazel eyes alight with anger, she snarled, leaning closer to him, “Then you shouldn’t have fucked me, to begin with.”

He looks down at her; her nostrils are flared, her breath heavy, and he can feel a tweak of pleasure spreading towards his groin: he can sense her anger, feel it vibrating off of her, and he can smell the faint scent of her: lavender and mint and lemons. 

He leans in closer, even though he knew he should just tell her to leave. Let their lust-filled fucking dissipate into the air; let it fall into the rubble with the rest of his past, along with everything else he used to enjoy. “You were just  _ too easy _ of a fuck to not, Sybil.” He knows he’s being cruel. He is often cruel, and he knows that she knows this. She also knows he’s pushing her, goading her into either leaving or fighting. 

She cocks her head to the side every-so slightly, “Yes, well, Severus, when a pitiful, sad, sad man comes crawling to you night after night, begging to bury his cock in you, whimpering into you, it’s awfully hard to deny him that." 

He wants to laugh. Not at her, but at the situation. That this wildly bizarre and beautiful woman can make him feel so sad and so aroused at the same time. She is right, after all. He came to her. She never sought him out. She never tried to see him. It was always him who wanted her. 

Severus grips her waist and pulls her close to him, in a low, dangerous voice, his lips pressed to her ear he whispers, “Then don’t deny me.” Leaning up, she kisses him, taking his lower lip between her teeth. “I never do,” she whispers against his lips, and with that, he lifts her up slightly and pushes her up onto the desk. He slips a hand up her satin top to find her braless as usual, and he twists and tugs on her nipple. Nudging her legs apart, he stands between her, his other hand groping her thigh beneath her skirt. Sybil moves her lips to his ear lobe sucking and bite on it teasingly, “Get on your knees, Severus.” 

Without a word he complies and sinks to the floor, at some point she’s slipped off her shoes, and she rests her bare feet on his shoulders. He turns his head to rest against her calve, and he kisses her warm, soft skin, making his way up towards the insides of her thighs where he nips and licks the tender skin. Sometimes, he’ll spend a long time slowly licking and sucking on her clit and labia before he penetrates her with his fingers and tongue, but not this morning. She is glistening when he shoves two of his fingers into her, curling them within her, and he latches onto her clit sucking hard against her. With her legs wrapped around him, he feels her thighs tremble as he tugs his fingers against her most sensitive spot. He easily works her into orgasm before he withdrawals his fingers.

Immediately, he moves his tongue to lap up her orgasm, to gently slid his tongue inside her, listening to the moans of her waning orgasm. He sucks and licks and kisses her pussy like he’s never been more grateful for anything, she feels a surge of affection for him and runs her hands towards his face, tilting his chin up towards her. “Let me fuck you.” He nods silently and rises from his knees. “Go sit in your precious leather chair.” He chuckles and walks over to it, unbuttoning his trousers as he does, feeling relief from releasing his rigid cock from its confines. He sits down in his chair, his cock exposed, standing tall for her. He lets his hands rest on the arms of his chair as he watches her walk over to him. She slips out of her skirt and his cock jolts at the sight of her pussy, the soft hair between her legs glistening from her orgasm. 

Straddling him, the warmth of her center grazes the tip of his cock and his eyes flutter shut with a groan. She smirks and slides down onto him, letting his length fill her up entirely. She sits there, his cock buried in her, and she doesn’t move for a moment; instead, she eyes him, examines his features, and she leans forward and kisses him roughly while moving atop him, removing him from her almost entirely, she rests there, with him barely inside her, before quickly slamming herself back down onto him. He jerks with a groan and she continues this method of teasing him, each time she makes him wait longer before he’s back inside her again. 

Finally, she gets him where she wants him, where she’s kept her pussy barely hovering atop him for too long. He grabs forcefully onto her hips and rams himself up into her. She cries out at the intense pleasure as he hits deep inside of her. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he pumps into her erratically. She leans forward so that his face is resting against her chest. In frustration with her satin top, he takes his free and tugs at the scoop on the top, pulling it down so far it rips and exposes her creamy breasts and pebbled nipples. He lets out a satisfied moan and buries his face between her cleavage; he continues to thrust into her, his moans muffled and low. Her lips are at his ear again, she nips at him, “Come for me, Severus.” 

And, as if he is the one who cannot deny her of anything, he does. His breath hot against her skin, his teeth grazing her, his fingers dug deep into her waist. 

After several moments, he pulls away and looks up at her, moving to kiss her slowly and tenderly. She pulls away and kisses his cheeks and his forehead. He rests his head against her chest again; she cradles him and runs her fingers along his shoulders. “Show me the cards, Sybil. Show me what can happen." 


End file.
